


Something More

by sunlit_pizza



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bisexuality, Happy pride month, M/M, Miraculous Ladybug - Freeform, Other, Queer Themes, Queer love, Romance, julerose and adrinette are metioned but it's really just bi bi bi boi, nobody will ever convince me that sabrina raincomprix isn't a secret hard top, there's dicks in here kids okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 21:10:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11112942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunlit_pizza/pseuds/sunlit_pizza
Summary: After graduating from high school, Nathanael Kurtzberg and Kim Lê Chiến lose touch. Despite having so many friends in common, their paths don't cross again until Kim starts modeling at Nathanael's art school.





	Something More

**Author's Note:**

> HI, I LOVE RUN-ON SENTENCES. It's been like 15 years since I wrote more than a headcanon or an academic assignment, so please forgive me for being rusty and 1000% too descriptive. There are around 7,300 words in this fic, and only about 1,500 is actual porn, so if you're here for a non-stop boner party you will be disappointed. Just saying.
> 
> S/O to my BFF Hchano for getting me into this fandom and being my editor. ilyml~

              Nathanael walked into the studio classroom with a grumbling stomach and his sunglasses still on, easing the strap of his satchel off his shoulder as he reached his usual spot. Sunlight shone down through the skylight high over the platform in the center of a ring of easels. They were starting a new project today and his classmates quickly took their places around him, eager to begin. He wished he could share their enthusiasm and tried to remind himself that he would eventually cheer up once he got started. Drawing had always helped him work through his negative emotions.

              Silently cursing his growling stomach and aching head, he opened his portfolio and removed the large drawing pad. Placing it on the easel in front of him, he rifled through his case of conté and charcoal sticks. All he’d had in the last twenty-four hours was five glasses of champagne and four crudités. He was hungry, a little hungover, and more than grumpy about it.

              Things had gone strangely at Mayor Bourgeois’ annual Young Artist Gala in the ballroom of _Le Grand Paris_. He had gone hungry in anticipation of Chef Césaire’s cooking, but had felt too nervous to eat much. Drinking until the top five artists had been chosen, he’d barely had time to devour a few of the petite offerings before the akuma showed up and he had to dive under a table to hide. Half the guests had been turned into Dadaist sculptures, some of which, if he was honest, were quite funny, particularly when Monsieur le Maire himself was turned into Duchamp’s _Fountain_.

              Ladybug had quickly straightened things out, and having remained unscathed during the whole thing softened the disappointment of only being awarded third place. Remembering what had happened to the young artist to take first place made him shudder; who knew a teacup covered in fur could be so…unsettling? The second-place winner had been horrified at what he’d done. Sweet of Chat Noir to stay afterward and make sure everyone was alright, even though he had missed the action. He should have kept that bit of camembert instead of giving it to Chat Noir, though.

              He flexed his abdominal muscles, pulling in his belly, and it seemed to help the pain a little. Great. Now he just had clench his abs for the next three and a half hours. Looking at the people around him, he spotted Mireia adjusting her hijab. She was friendly, and usually had a little bag of granola or dried fruit with her. Maybe she would share…

              The scents of lavender and strong coffee wafted toward him, signaling the arrival of Professor Fleur, bringing him sharply back to the present moment. Nathanael’s mouth watered at the sight the tiny espresso cup in Professor Fleur’s hand. Adjusting her ever-present shawl, she caught his gaze and slowly raised her eyeglasses until they rested on top of her head. Smiling expectantly at him, she raised an eyebrow. She normally did this before working closely on fine details so he stared blankly at first, then realized he was still wearing his sunglasses. He hurriedly removed them, leaving a smudge of charcoal by his right eye.

              “Alright, my budding geniuses, today we begin a new series of exercises.” Professor Fleur drifted past him with a whispered, _“Congratulations on placing, Mr. Kurtzberg,”_ before coming to a stop on the platform at the center of the ring of students setting up their easels. Settling her glasses back on the bridge of her nose, she sipped from the tiny cup and placed it back on its matching saucer with care before continuing. “We have a new model today who will hold poses for no more than ten minutes. We’ve focused on realism and other instructors will continue with it. I want to see your gestural work. Show me what you know about emotive line and the essence of movement. The next month will be nude studies of increasing detail and time, the following month we will move on to draped clothing. After that, it depends on your progress.”

              Professor Fleur stepped down from the platform and the model stepped up, handing her his robe. Nathanael rummaged through his bag and found a half-empty bottle of water and a corner store single dose packet of pain killers. He had just torn it open with his teeth and was swallowing the pills inside when he noticed who was standing on the platform, looking a little nervous but trying not to show it by stretching and flexing different sets of well-developed muscles.

              “Kim!” Nathanael blurted it out before he could stop himself, choking a little, feeling like the pills had gotten stuck half-way down his throat. He felt his face grow hot, but the startled look on Kim’s quickly reddening face made him feel a slightly less embarrassed. Kim reflexively covered his crotch for a moment before making a visible effort to relax.

              “Nathanael! It’s been a long time.” Kim rolled his heavily muscled shoulders back in a smooth motion and a few people in the classroom let out audible sighs. His light brown skin seemed to glow under the skylight.

              “Mr. Kurtzberg, I see you are acquainted with Mr. Lê Chiến.” Professor Fleur placed the saucer with its empty cup in the sink students used to wash up after class and adjusted her glasses again.

              “We went to high school together, but we didn’t really keep in touch,” Kim explained. His face was now back to its normal color, and he leaned all his weight onto one leg, tensing the muscles along his stomach and chest slightly. The professor smiled and prepared an easel for herself.

              “I trust catching up will not be a distraction.” Professor Fleur calmly withdrew a timer from her own box of supplies, then a small black remote control from somewhere within the drapery of her bright shawl. She pressed a button and up-tempo jazz began to play. “Mr. Lê Chiến, I will set the timer for ten minutes. Please remember to keep your knees loose. Class, Mr. Lê Chiến will vary his poses per the mood of the music. I will bring in a chair after three poses so he can rest during the fourth, eighth, twelfth, etcetera, until the end of our time together today.” She settled herself on her stool, raised a stick of charcoal to the pad of paper in front of her, and switched on the timer. “You may begin.”

 

              Nathanael packed up his pencils and his pad of paper, completely exhausted. Three hours of drawing with a half hour break in the middle; Professor Fleur was not as strict as other instructors, but she got results. Each student now had dozens of quick studies of different poses, and Kim had certainly kept it interesting. From the body builder flexing Nathanael had expected from him to a surprising level of flexibility and lack of shyness during some yoga poses that Kim had explained were “excellent hip openers,” he had gained more than a few admirers in the class. A handful of students stood around him, either flirting or asking about his workout routine.

              After refilling his water bottle several times throughout the class period and re-hydrating slowly, Nathanael’s head didn’t hurt quite as much. Unfortunately, Mireia hadn’t brought anything to share and now that he was no longer able to tune out his body with work, he was ravenous. He was feeling less hung over, at least, but much shakier, and could hardly wait to leave and grab a bite to eat before his next class. As he made his way to the door with the rest of the students, a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.

              “Nathanael,” Kim’s voice had gotten deeper since high school, and having it so close behind him caused a soft flutter in Nathanael’s empty stomach. The other students walked around them and out the door.

              “Ah, Kim, great work today. It was good to see you again—I mean, well—I, I, hah,” his stomach wasn’t just fluttering now, it was actively twisting against his ribs. Kim still wore only the robe, and even though Nathanael had spent the last few hours actively staring at Kim’s naked body, the sun shining behind him through the light cotton robe and outlining the curves of his muscles made him seem to glow from within as he had on the platform. Wasn’t that what Kim’s name meant in Vietnamese? Golden? Or was it something about bravery? He seemed to recall Kim boasting about it a few times. He dragged his gaze back up to Kim’s face and tried to glue it there, feeling dazzled and faint.

              “It’s alright, I know what you mean. I’m sorry that I was probably an asshole to you in high school. You’ve got black on you.” Kim stepped closer and seemed to loom over him, but suddenly it seemed that everything was looming.

              “I’m sorry?” Nathanael saw little spots in the corners of his vision.

              “It’s charcoal that you use, right?” Kim’s face, friendly and interested in what Nathanael had to say. How odd. “It’s by your eye.” Kim prompted.

              “Oh?” Nathanael rubbed idly at his face, noticed that his visibly trembling fingers were still smudged at the tips from working, charcoal embedded under his nails. “Ah.”

              “No—you—it’s worse now, here, let me.” Kim rubbed gently at his right temple with the sleeve of his robe. Nathanael began to slump forward. “Whoa, are you alright?”

 

              Nathanael woke up on a small chaise lounge to Kim and Professor Fleur’s worried faces. That is, after he had an eyeful of, well, _Kim_ and managed to pull his eyes up. The room behind them was tasteful and comfortable; the desk and file cabinet meant he must be in Professor Fleur’s office. She had made more effort to make her office accommodating for the models, letting them use it to change rather than making them use the smaller supply room or water closet on the other side of the classroom like many of the other instructors. Nathanael briefly considered sitting up before speaking, and immediately thought better of it when a wave of dizziness hit him.

              “I’m sorry,” he began. “I didn’t have time to eat, and I was out so late last night at the gala…” his voice trailed off. “Kim, uh, your, ah,”

              “Oh! Sorry about that. It must have come undone when I carried you into Mrs. Fleur’s office.” Kim wrapped the robe around himself again.

              “Miss Fleur or Miss Gwendolyn will do, as you are not a student here,” she corrected, giving Nathanael the most solemn wink he had ever seen as Kim used the same loose knot that had slipped out the first time. “I have some time before my next class begins. I’ll find you something to eat, yes? You can bring me a large coffee tomorrow. Mr. Lê Chiến, you should get dressed before the next model needs the room, if Mr. Kurtzberg doesn’t mind. Put your robe in that hamper, there.” With a wave she was gone.

              “I’ve spent a lot of time naked in front of other people in locker rooms and in classes here, so if you’re okay with it, I’ll stay in here.” Kim shrugged out of the robe.

              “N-no. I don’t m-mind.” Nathanael sat up slowly, and began rummaging through his bag for his phone. Something to keep his eyes off Kim, who had dropped his robe into the hamper and was taking items of clothing out of a narrow wardrobe next to it. “So, you still play a lot of sports?” he asked weakly.

              “No, I’m sort of…studying to be a physical therapist. For the entrance exam, anyway. There’s so much science stuff that I’m not sure if I can pass.” He buckled his belt and ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the short strands. “Right now, I work under the Communard at _Le Grand Paris_. Alya convinced her mother to let me work there in the vegetable garden after we graduated when I couldn’t find a job, and eventually Chef C let me start helping with the staff meals. She says I have a lot of promise, and my brunoise is the best. What about you? Are you working at all, or just studying to be an artist?”

              “Listen, Kim, I don’t usually pass out like that, yeah?” Nathanael inched forward to the edge of the chaise lounge. His head was beginning to pound.

              “I never said you did,” Kim replied, his thick eyebrows knitting together.

              “I’m not, like, a wuss, or a weakling, or—” Nathanael stood shakily and immediately had to sit back down, motioning Kim away when he began to step toward him.

              “Shit, I’m sorry, I _was_ an asshole to you…to everyone, really. I’m trying not to be so competitive now, at least not the same way. In a way that hurts people, I mean. I had to do a lot of thinking about that when my fantastic career as an athlete didn’t happen.” Kim chuckled and walked toward Nathanael with his shirt unbuttoned and extended his hand.

              Nathanael hesitated, pondering the sincere look on Kim’s face before taking his hand. He studied Kim’s hands out of habit. There was a fresh scar on the left thumb, and bandages on two of his fingers on his right hand. A constellation of freckles from time spent in the sun. The nails were short and clean, the pads callused. It must be from his work at _Le Grand Paris_. Nathanael decided to draw them later.

              “Ah, Mr. Kurtzberg. I’m glad to see you upright, at least partly.” Professor Fleur set a small basket with half a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese, two peeled hard-boiled eggs in a little plastic bag, and a bunch of grapes.

              Nathanael’s face lit up and he popped a few grapes into his mouth, wondering where she’d gotten it all so quickly.

              “Eat it _slowly_ ,” she scolded. “Leave when you feel better. Do you have another class? I’ll write you a note for…?”

              “No, Professor, I have Dr. Scalogno in about thirty minutes. He won’t accept excuses unless you have a note from a medical professional or you bring him an obituary and a photo of yourself with the deceased.” Nathanael sighed and bit into an egg.

              “Hmm, you’d better eat on your way, then. Mr. Lê Chiến, do you have any pressing business, or can you make sure Mr. Kurtzberg gets to class safely?” She paused, smiling like a Sphinx. “But perhaps button your shirt before you leave.”

 

              That was how their friendship started, with Kim walking him to class, chatting idly about people they knew in common and what they had been up to in the six years since they’d graduated.

              Adrien was still modeling in high fashion magazines and had put in a good word for Kim with the agency handling the contract with the art institute. Marinette had found work in a small atelier after studying design. She still occasionally made custom items for Jagged Stone and other musicians. Alya was one of the top students in her Journalism program, the Ladyblog still going strong. She and Nino had moved in together as soon as he had begun getting steady, paid work as a DJ.

              Defying expectations but true to type, Max was studying statistics, but had mostly stopped playing video games competitively without real challengers to keep it fun. Rose and Juleka had adopted a child and were heavily into political activism with Mylène and Ivan. Chloé, oddly enough, was a big help to them despite studying (Kim wasn’t sure what) in China.

              As for Sabrina, her line of bondage gear was picking up in America after being featured in music videos for the singles on Jagged Stone’s tenth studio release. He and Fang II had worn matching collars and the extras had worn harnesses she'd designed, enlisting Marinette’s help to create them. Kim found the thought of sweet Marinette having a hand in the start of a BDSM empire endlessly funny.

              “I hope she got a percentage of the sales or some stocks, at least.” Kim said.

              “Adrien teased her for months until she threatened to break off their engagement. I think nothing would _actually_ make her do that, though. Sometimes it’s almost nauseating to watch them together.” Nathanael rolled his eyes.

              “I take it you’re as single as I am, then.” Kim grinned, fending off Nathanael’s fake punch with a throaty laugh.

              In the following months, Kim managed to weasel his way into modeling gigs in many of Nathanael’s classes, much to his surprise. They had some form of social contact at least once per day when he didn’t have class. Nathanael wasn’t sure exactly when he had begun to admit to himself that he was attracted to Kim, and even less sure when he began to think that Kim might feel the same way.

              They hadn’t exactly been discreet about their friendship at the art institute. They made excuses to talk during breaks, or if Nathanael was feeling bold enough, to be alone with Kim while he got dressed. They met up for coffee, meals, or drinks with old classmates. Every few weeks they went to a film or a show, each of them taking turns choosing what they would see and talking it over afterwards. _Very_ occasionally they would go for early morning runs, when Kim’s work schedule allowed.

              It was always casual, always friendly…always comfortable. Sometimes they touched, and that was always casual and friendly, too; a hand grazing a knee when passing the popcorn. Thighs barely touching as they rode the subway. Toes beneath a café table or shoulders brushing when they took a corner too tightly on their runs. Often Nathanael would stumble, panting, and Kim would place a hand on his back until he was ready to make a weak joke about not having so many years of physical training. Just as often Kim would tousle his hair and say he was getting stronger every time they ran, encouraging him to run on his own.

              Nathanael began to help Kim with his studies, and soon his personal sketchbook was just as full of Kim as his school work.

 

              Their first encounter was hurried and reckless. Dr. Scalogno’s tableau for their intermediate study in oils was a pile of satin and brocade blankets and pillows draped _just so_ around Kim’s prone body, one hand resting lightly on his belly, thighs parted, head tilted back to expose his throat. Draping his other arm across his eyes and crushing the flower crown on his head, Kim joked that he would try not to fall asleep and start snoring when Dr. Scalogno told him to open his mouth slightly to complete the pose.

              “No! You are not relaxing! You are _Eros!_ ” Seeing Kim’s blank look Dr. Scalogno stomped forward to the platform, gesturing angrily at the fake flowers and fruit scattered around with the pillows. “You are _sated._ You are in the moments of languid repose only achieved after _intense lovemaking.”_

              Someone tittered and Dr. Scalogno spun toward the noise. “Ah, passion is funny to you? And they say to me Paris is the city of love! I suppose you think there is only the casual encounter with no thought of what is next. I should go home to Florence if I want to see the passions!” Anger made his accent stronger. “Or perhaps you are uncomfortable? Take your prudishness and leave. _All of you_. Take a zero for this assignment.”

              “I…could do some push-ups or something?” Kim’s voice cut through the shocked gasps and protests. Dr. Scalogno turned toward him and stared, lips pursed, scowling.

              “If it was that good, he’d be sweaty, right?” Nathanael asked timidly.

              “Hmm.” Dr. Scalogno scrubbed his fingers through his beard, thinking. “Consider it a pop quiz. Get your sketchpads out, if you have them, _which you should at all the times!_ I will refrain from removing one point on your scores from the written portion of the class if your sketches impress me.”

              The class exhaled in relief as one, suddenly grateful for Professor Fleur—except for Nathanael, who had caught the look Kim gave him when he spoke and was waiting for his lungs to remember what their job was.

              The next time the class met, Dr. Scalogno had a bottle of glycerin to pat onto Kim’s chest, and a handful of arrows painted gold. Kim took the arrows reluctantly, clenching his jaw.

              Eventually, over the course of the assignment as their paintings neared completion, a suggestive smear of glycerin was added to Kim’s thigh. Nathanael, finally ready to admit to himself how badly he wanted to touch Kim for more than a moment, even once, brought an extra cleaning cloth to the final day of the assignment and tucked it into his bag, careful to keep it away from anything that might have a smudge of paint or charcoal.

              His hands had almost stopped trembling by the time Dr. Scalogno called for a break and stalked to his office, slamming the door as usual. Kim got smoothly to his feet and Nathanael’s heart immediately started to pound as he watched him shrug into his robe and walk into the supply room where Scalogno had cleared a single shelf for the models to keep their things. Nathanael thought of all the hours he had spent staring at those shoulders. Kim turned to close the door, looked directly at Nathanael, and bit his bottom lip. Oh, god…

              He wasn’t a virgin, and Kim wouldn’t even the first man, but…it was Kim. It was _Kim._ What if he’d read all the signals wrong? What if Kim outed him as bisexual? It wouldn’t matter much, he didn’t hide it, but recently he’d heard some of the other students talking, using slurs; had watched some of them tear down flyers for LGBTQ meet ups. He had only ever known Kim to be interested in women. What if it was worse than just being outed? What if Kim also didn’t want to be his friend anymore? What if it got violent?

              No. Kim wasn’t like that. The way Kim had looked at him just now, and on the first day of this project, all the casual touches that lasted a little longer than necessary these last few weeks, they must mean something. Mulling it over as he washed the paint and stand oil carefully from his hands, he thought of the way he had sometimes noticed Kim watching him under his lashes and swallowed hard. If it had been a woman giving him these signals, he would go after her.

              He would never get his courage up again, he knew, and that meant if he was going to do anything it would have to be now, during the break. Nathanael swallowed again and glanced at the clock above Dr. Scalogno’s office door. Thirty minutes exactly, and ten were already gone just scrubbing his hands and getting the cloth from his bag, debating. He checked that everyone else had wandered out onto the balcony to escape the turpentine fumes, smoke, stretch their arms and backs, or to eat while the weather was still cool enough.

              He walked as calmly as he could toward the supply room door and knocked lightly, breathing out slowly through his mouth. Kim opened the door, glanced around behind Nathanael, and stepped aside so he could enter the supply room. Nathanael held the towel out to Kim.

              “Hey, I know clean ones disappear around art students pretty fast, so I brought you a spare for the end of class.”

              That was what he planned to say. What he managed to say was, “Hey, I—mmm!” Kim had picked Nathanael up in his arms and kissed him. He lifted him right off the ground like something out of a daydream, pressing their bodies tightly together, and kissed Nathanael hard. Fake errand forgotten, Nathanael wrapped his arms around Kim’s neck, opening his mouth for Kim to slide his tongue inside with a soft moan.

              Suddenly everything was hands and heartbeats and hushed sighs; suddenly the world was only this small room, only Kim setting him down and pressing him against the wall, only Kim biting his neck so gently he thought he might cum in his jeans. There was only the white robe being loosened and a calloused hand with a mostly-healed cut on the ring finger sliding under his shirt to caress his nipple, only the sound of his zipper being tugged down. There was nothing but their shuddering breath, and the little bead of precum already welling up under the foreskin of Kim’s hard cock as Nathanael ran his fingers down the shaft and gripped it at the base. Only Kim, panting and yanking Nathanael’s collar down to bite his shoulder, planting a trail of urgent kisses up his neck and along his jaw, moaning. Kim, cradling his cheek while he kissed him; Kim, running his scarred thumb gently over Nathanael’s mouth and sliding it inside. Kim, with his eyes on Nathanael’s until he began to shake, breath hitching. Bracing himself against the wall, Kim buried his face in Nathanael’s hair as his orgasm reached its peak. Kim kissed him with a tenderness that surprised him, only pulling away to find the towel once he had softened completely in Nathanael’s grip. He lifted his fingers to his mouth, and the whole world was only Kim dropping the towel as Nathanael began licking his hand clean; Kim kneeling in front of him, eyes locked the entire time.

              Nathanael was back in his body on planet Earth, with his feet on the ground and his pants around his ankles. He was staring in stunned awe as Kim cupped his balls in one hand and fondled his hip with the other, eyes still on Nathanael’s face, as if they had done these things a hundred times before. Kim was speaking, asking if he was alright, if he wanted this, and he could only nod, unable to speak until he felt Kim’s warm mouth all around him, and he sighed out Kim’s name.

              He rested his hand gently on Kim’s head, running his fingers through the soft hair, styled so differently than when they had first known each other—he gripped it in the back, beneath the flower crown neither of them had thought to remove, and Kim moaned, taking Nathanael’s cock even deeper into his throat, sucking harder, faster. Every inch of him disappeared into Kim’s mouth and he felt himself tipping over the edge of something more than just this moment, and choked back a sob.

              “Kim,” he whispered, feeling fingers press very gently against his asshole. “Fuckfuck _fuck_ oh my _god_ Kim, I’m going to c—hah, aaah, _I’m g-going to_ —”

 

              They barely had enough time to compose themselves, for Nathanael straighten his clothes and help Kim fix his flower crown. They quickly washed their hands with shoulders touching. Nathanael offered Kim his water bottle and Kim kissed Nathanael’s neck impulsively, a smug grin on his face. They had just taken their places in the classroom as two friendly acquaintances chatting innocently before Dr. Scalogno burst from his office. Tossing a few crumpled napkins and carryout container into the trash, he washed his hands and glared at Nathanael.

              Suddenly convinced Dr. Scalogno knew what had happened, terror consumed him. If he failed any of his classes, he would lose his scholarship, and Scalogno would absolutely fail him for jerking off the model in the supply room. As panic began to surge through him, he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and his breath slowed. Dr. Scalogno stared at the clock over his office door.

              “Three minutes early, Mr. Kurtzberg. Go call in your classmates while I assist Cupid.” Kim flinched a little at that, but took his hand from Nathanael's shoulder with a quick squeeze and stepped up onto the platform for his last session in this particular tableau. Seeing Kim’s expression, Nathanael suddenly remembered what had happened to Kim in high school.

              Ladybug saved so many people all the time. The physical damage was wiped away, but what about the emotional scars? And what about the people who didn’t remember, because they had been doing the damage? He didn’t think about it much himself; Marinette had remained friendly and kind to him afterward, encouraging him to continue to draw. He still made art all day, every day. But maybe it had been more difficult for Kim. They had talked about his guilt over being a bully, but not about their time as, well…villains. He risked a quick text message on his way to the balcony door.

                                          ‘You okay? Still on to hang out tonight??’

              But when class ended, Kim got caught up in explaining a breathing exercise to a couple of Nathanael’s prettiest classmates. Nathanael had to leave or risk being late for his final class of the day. His stomach dropped and his thoughts began to churn. It was probably a one-time thing for Kim. He knew Kim got phone numbers easily, and had seen forgotten articles of women’s clothing or jewelry in the bathroom at his place, had even pulled a bra out of the couch once while searching for his phone. They parted ways more than once for separate hook ups after nights spent dancing.

              Nathanael had eventually begun feeling comfortable leaving with a man or non-binary partner, which didn’t seem to bother Kim at all, but he had continued to either leave with single women or couples. He was probably just experimenting with somebody he felt safe with. But then…amateurs didn’t deep throat and swallow with a moan of pleasure. They didn’t kiss you with your cum running down their chin, holding you until you could stand on your own afterward.

              Nathanael pushed into the classroom and his phone buzzed in his hand before he could put it away.

                                           ‘Yes!! Dinner @ mine? Bring wine & bread? I want an honest opinion on my vichyssoise before I make it for Chef C’

              Nathanael’s heart was already soaring after sending his affirmative when his phone buzzed again.

                                           ‘Also lube? Ran out last week. Can’t get to the store today & I need your cock inside me’

              Then, almost immediately, a third text full of little eggplant and peach emoji. Trying to keep his laughter to a minimum, Nathanael quickly texted back,

                                           ‘I’ll let Max know we can’t make it to the cinema.’

              Jesus. _Jesus._ This was real. This was happening. He couldn’t stop grinning for the rest of the day.

 

              Aside from the sex, there wasn’t much that changed between them. They did many of the same things, but often went home together rather than heading home alone or seeking out other partners. After setting some boundaries, they started going to get their regular health screenings together. Sometimes Nathanael still came across a discarded earring or a flock of hearts drawn in different and sometimes surprising shades lipstick on the mirror, and the box of condoms seemed on the verge of being empty much more regularly at Kim’s flat than his own. He had even watched Kim discreetly slip a bangle out of his pocket and onto Professor Fleur’s wrist, letting his fingertips linger on her forearm for a moment. She had noticed Nathanael looking and given him that same solemn wink before starting class as though nothing had happened.

              Nathanael reminded himself often that they had never agreed to be exclusive. In fact, they had agreed to the opposite. But as the months passed, even though he picked up other people with decreasing frequency and got less and less out of it when he did, he said nothing. At least Kim was also being safe and their tests kept coming back negative for STIs. Eventually, after another discussion about boundaries that Kim initiated, this came to mean they would spend the weekend holed up together in Kim’s flat with good wine, pastries from the Dupain bakery every morning, no phones, and no condoms. And still, Nathanael couldn’t bring himself to say anything for fear of losing what they had together.

 

              They were dressing quickly because of the cold in Nathanael’s flat. It was almost the holidays and they wouldn’t see each other for a few weeks. At first it seemed to make Kim even hornier than usual, but the last couple of days he had been withdrawn.

              Nathanael felt hollow at the thought of not seeing Kim. It had been months since he’d gone more than a few days without at least a quick cup of coffee and a lingering kiss. They would text a lot—they already did—and maybe there would be a few phone calls with the door locked and a pillow over his head to muffle his voice, but it wouldn’t be the same.

              “Hey, will I see you before my train tonight?” Nathanael’s parents had moved when his father’s father became too ill to live alone, and he would be traveling several hours away to be with them. He smoothed his hair and made sure his fly was up. He caught Kim’s eye and noticed that he looked worried. “It’s alright if you can’t, of course.”

              “Um. Nath,” Kim began. The tension in his voice made Nathanael nervous.

              “I’ll see you after New Year’s, right?” Feeling his face grow hot, he turned quickly toward the open bedroom door, but felt the familiar heavy hand on his shoulder. Kim reached past him with his other hand and pushed the door shut.

              “Nath, listen.” He paused as if unsure how to continue. Nathanael began to sweat despite the cold. It was either over now, or…or worse. This had happened before. Better just let it happen and get things over with. Kim would break his heart but he wouldn’t hurt him physically, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much this time.

              “Yes?” Nathanael waited, heart sinking.

              “If anyone…asks…”

              Oh god, it was worse, it was going to be worse, Kim didn’t want anyone to know about them and it fucking _hurt_. And Kim hadn’t changed after all. He was going to spend most of the holiday working and fucking girls and he was done with experimenting now. He didn’t want to see Nathanael any more now that he was ready to ace the entrance exams with all of Nathanael’s help. He turned to face Kim, blinking hard and swallowing the fear.

              “Don’t worry about it, I won’t say anything about us,” he said coldly. To his surprise, Kim looked startled and hurt.

              “Oh—I—shit, I’m sorry, Nath—Nathanael, I’m sorry, I just thought… _shit_. I was just thinking maybe we…were…dating?” A breathless pause. “Like, I could tell my family…Jesus, _you’re crying_ —god, fine, I won’t say anything either.” Kim started to push him away from the door when he realized Nathanael had started to laugh.

              “I thought—I thought you were going to b-break up—I mean we never made it official or exclusive, and I thought you…that you…god, Kim, I’m sorry, too.” Nathanael slumped against Kim’s chest, felt himself being lifted off the ground like that first time, and so many others when Kim had carried him straight to the nearest fuckable surface as soon as they were alone, sometimes not even making it to a horizontal position and making use of the wall…and sometimes just holding him tightly with his face pressed into Nathanael’s neck, breathing him in. How could he have ever doubted him?

              “I’m…not good at asking people out. Like, officially. Literally the last time I tried to ask somebody to date me, Ladybug had to save the city from me.” Kim put Nathanael down slowly and pulled away to gaze into his eyes. “So, I’ve just always been casual with people since then. I never really figured out how to do it properly.”

              Nathanael stood on his toes and wrapped his arms around Kim’s neck. Kim took his wordless invitation to kiss with a soft sigh of relief.

              “You make me feel like I can understand things. Like I’m not too stupid to pass my exams. You talk to me like I’m not an uneducated asshole with another bicep where my brain should be. I feel different when I’m with you—Nath, I don’t want anyone else anymore.”

              “I don’t want anyone else either, so I’d better not find any more bras stuffed in the couch or hearts drawn on the mirror if one of us didn’t put them there.” Trying to remain visibly calm through the wave of relief washing over him, Nathanael did his best impression of Dr. Scalogno’s finger wag and Kim chuckled.

              “God, Juleka can be a little extra. I’m sorry.” Kim rolled his eyes.

              “Juleka…can.... What?” Nathanael stared at Kim, dumbfounded.

              “She crashes here whenever she has a fight with Rose.” Kim explained. “Then they make up the next day and use half my condoms, and leave me a pile of francs so I can buy more—and don’t bother asking, they hardly ever leave the country so I have no idea where they get them or why they can’t leave euros—then they change the sheets and they’re back together again. I think the hearts on the mirror are a thank you if the make-up sex was exceptionally good. Although, I also think they don’t even have real fights anymore, they just managed to get a sitter for the morning and like to be as loud as they want.” Nathanael dissolved into laughter, hugging Kim tightly. "I should have told you about it, but they've been doing it for so long that I forgot how odd of an arrangement it is."

              “Jesus. Okay. So, let’s start this conversation over. Please tell anyone and everyone we’re together. Will I see you again before my train tonight?” He nuzzled his face into Kim’s shirt.

              “Of course, but I might be a little too tipsy to get off on the right stop, so come over to my place? Chloé got in last night and she’ll want to celebrate when I tell her I finally asked you to be my boyfriend.” Kim smiled sheepishly.

              “Boyfriend. _My boyfriend._ Kim, you’re my boyfriend! Wait _waitwait._ Chloé? As in _Bourgeois?”_ Nathanael stared in wide-eyed confusion and let go of Kim.

              “What? She can be a little full of herself—”

              “A _little?_ ” Nathanael almost shouted.

              “But she’s also very supportive! I think her time studying in China made her homesick, so she’s been sending me DMs a lot lately. She would want to celebrate being home for the holidays even if I didn’t have good news.” Kim folded his arms across his chest, flexing the biceps just enough to make Nathanael notice, and bit his lip. Sneaky. It absolutely worked.

               “Okay, boyfriend, no more revelations about old classmates,” Nathanael yanked Kim’s shirt up and over his head and began to push him back toward the bed, laughing.

              “Are you sure? I have some theories about Ladybug and Volpina,” Kim teased, pulling at Nathanael’s belt.

              “Absolutely not. Stop talking unless you have something related to fucking me or making me breakfast to say. And take off your pants,” Nathanael ordered, already half hard.

              “How do you feel about having that American white polenta thing I made again today, the ground corn with the cheese and prawns?” Kim grinned and slipped his black and white checked work slacks down his hips slowly, taking his briefs with them. He paused just as his glossy patch of pubic hair appeared. Nathanael let out an exasperated shout and threw a pillow at him.

              “God! It was delicious, okay? Yes. Add the morels, though, we need to use them up before I leave. And take anything else perishable back to your place if you want. Satisfied?” he huffed. Kim half nodded and shrugged one shoulder to indicate indecision.

              “Partly,” he said, finally undressing completely and revealing his erection.

              “Very subtle.” Nathanael laughed, kicking off his shoes.

              “You’re one to talk. You want the gruyere, or…?” Kim stroked himself idly and Nathanael groaned.

              “Forget I mentioned food! Chef Césaire will forgive you for calling in if you’re working the entire holiday, and _fuck,_ if you keep biting your lip and waving your dick around like that I don’t think I can wait for the evening.” He closed the small gap between them and slid his hands down Kim’s sides, enjoying the feel of the muscles tensing beneath the taut, light brown skin. He let his hands drift around and down, gripping Kim’s ass and eliciting a low, growling moan that sent a thrill down his spine and left him giddy. Kim picked him up and tossed him on the bed. He landed on the pillows, laughing. He wriggled out of his pants, and Kim yanked them away, tossing them across the room.

              “One more thing, and then I promise I’ll _only_ talk about how much I want to be inside you, if that’s all you want to hear.” Kim slid onto the foot of the bed with a look that made Nathanael’s heart pound.

              He started by Nathanael’s feet, kissing his way up his legs, pausing to teasingly nuzzle and nip the tender skin of Nathanael’s hips and inner thighs. After a few moments of gently sucking his balls, Kim began to make his way up Nathanael’s torso. Tongue barely grazing the tip of his cock, he pulled away before Nathanael could thrust up into his mouth with a grin that made Nathanael’s toes curl up in anticipation even as he let out a frustrated moan. Kim planted his palms and knees beside Nathanael’s body, not pinning him down, but not allowing him to grind against him, either.

              After devoting extra attention to his nipples until Nathanael was begging Kim to fuck him, he slowly made his way to Nathanael’s shoulders, then his neck. Leaning in so his lips brushed Nathanael’s ear, he sucked the lobe hard and pulled away, biting gently. Kim shifted his weight and placed a knee between Nathanael’s legs, pushing gently with it so they parted. Shifting his weight again, he repeated the movement on the other side so that he was settled over Nathanael, who finally got the message that this time wouldn’t be about immediate gratification and slowly pulled his knees up against Kim’s sides, hands tracing their way up to his shoulders.

              Finally where he had planned to be, Kim rested his hand lightly over Nathanael’s heart. He opened his mouth to speak, but caught Nathanael’s gaze, achingly open and trusting, his eyes still bright from crying. He leaned back, hesitating, finally managing only to murmur Nathanael’s name. Letting out a soft sigh, Nathanael smiled up at him and wrapped his legs around Kim’s waist, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek, watching as Kim’s expression relaxed from anxiety and back to desire. But…no. It wasn’t just desire making his eyes shine in the soft morning light.

              “Kim?” he breathed.

              No, it was much more than that. It was that moment again, the world disappearing and becoming only the two of them, the places where their bodies touched, or did not touch, and the tangled sheets beneath them. The smell of Nathanael’s aftershave on Kim’s face, citrusy and earthy, and the ever-present bandage on at least one of his fingers.

              Nathanael had a dizzying moment of seeing himself as Kim saw him. He was more than just himself, alone. They were both more than that. He felt it again, and he knew it now. He was tipping over the edge of something more, but he wasn’t going to fall by himself. Kim would always catch him; they would always catch each other.

              Tears welled up in their eyes as they continued to gaze at each other, not just longingly, but lovingly. Kim opened his mouth to try again, but for once was the one who couldn’t speak. Nathanael lifted his head and kissed him softly, felt Kim lower himself so that their hearts were pressed together.

              “Je t’aime aussi, Kim…je t’aime aussi.”


End file.
